Night Flyer

Chapter 9

   "Namara, why don't you sit down?" Willow asked gently.

  Namara felt like there was something a little off about Willow. The man from the porch whose name was Bucky, was standing behind Willow like a sentinel. Though Namara had no plans to hurt Willow, Namara got the feeling if she tried it would take Bucky less than two seconds to tear her head off. 

  "Bucky, Steve how about you guys give us some space?" Willow said, her voice commanding.

 "Yeah sure." Bucky shrugged and headed out, glancing behind him several times as though he didn't like leaving Willow alone.

 "Well, now that I've sent the guard dogs off, why don't we ladies chat?"

 "Steve said you could fix me."

 "Steve's assuming that there is something wrong with you. Your memories are still there, you just have a few extra added. So it's not too bad."

  "Can you get the fake ones out?"

 "If that's what you want. Give me one of your hands."

"Is this going to get weird?"

 Willow laughed, throwing her head back, her blue eyes sparkling, "No. At least it's not strange for me. I'm a telepath, I can connect with your mind and sort through your memories. But having physical contact helps me form a bridge with your mind, and if me being in your head starts to cause you discomfort, you can squeeze my hand so I'll know when to stop."

  "Well, that's still kinda weird, but go ahead."

  Willow took one of Namara's hands and then Namara's mind was spinning.

  She could see images spinning past her. Blurred images of Namara and Jess ice skating. Jumping from trapeze bar to trapeze bar. Spinning through the skies like brightly colored birds. Then there was a slight flash of pain and Namara saw more modern memories. Looking up at Stark tower, using a computer. These memories were cracked and frayed. Namara could practically feel a line being drawn. The memories were sharp and some were blurred.

  Then she was sitting back in the living room, staring at Willow. Bucky and Steve were standing behind Willow, looking concerned. Willow looked exhausted, dark lines under her eyes. Namara glanced at the clock on the wall behind them, she'd been out for five hours.

  "There," Willow said, her voice tired, "I've drawn a line between your memories and the implanted ones."

  It was true, Namara could feel the divide she could see which were real and which weren't. 

 "Thank you Willow."

"Don't mention it. We have a spare room, you should get some rest."